


Family is (Mostly) for Children

by igrockspock



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Bechdel Test Pass, Female Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill thinks she knows the meaning of a bad day at the office...until Fury makes her Natasha Romanov's handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family is (Mostly) for Children

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tielan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/gifts).



Maria decides the world is out to get her when her cat figures out how to use the touch lamp by her bed and wakes her up at three a.m. for food. Then her alarm doesn't go off, so she doesn't get breakfast, and she arrives at SHIELD headquarters thirty minutes late with a dry cleaning bag dangling from her arm. Having a life outside of work is really not fucking worth it, she thinks. 

And fuck, why is Agent Barton in her office when it's not even nine a.m.?

"I need to talk to you," he says, and the hangdog look on his face does not bode well.

"What happened in Vladivostok?" she asks, but he doesn't get a chance to answer before twelve agents burst in.

"We have a situation, sir," one of them -- Agent Olaniran -- says.

"A person is _not_ a situation," Barton snaps. He's in Olaniran's face, looking like he might start a fight, and Maria has to step between them, her dry cleaning bag still swaying in her hand.

" _Enough_ ," she says. "Out of here, all of you. Barton stays."

She flings her dry cleaning onto the desk and locks the door.

"Clint, what the fuck is going on?" she asks, not bothering to hide the tiredness in her voice.

"Romanov," he says. "I brought her in."

"Her remains?" Maria asks, even though she already knows the answer. It's sitting in a dark corner of her office, ankles crossed and hands folded, looking as demure and innocent as a china doll. Maria's gun is in her hand in one smooth motion, cocked and ready to fire between Romanov's eyes.

"You brought _that_ here?" she asks, refusing to see the pleading in Barton's eyes.

***

Maria doesn't get to shoot Romanov because Romanov stabs herself in the thigh with a tranquilizer dart and crashes to the floor in an inelegant heap. Killing someone who's unconscious is wrong, even by the dubious moral standards of SHIELD, so instead Maria keeps her gun trained on Romanov until medical takes her, tied and bound, down to a level four containment room.

She can think of any number of things to say to Barton, most of which sound suspiciously like, "what the fuck is wrong with you?" But Barton still looks ready to punch someone in the face, and Maria needs answers, not an argument.

"Why?" she asks instead.

"We were fighting. She got in some good shots, and then she just...stopped. Threw down her knife, her gun...everything. All she said was 'please.'"

"She asked you for mercy?"

"She asked me to kill her."

"And you said no?"

"I can't kill someone who won't fight back."

Maria frowns, thinking of the abusive father and the foster homes in Barton's personnel file. She understands why he'd refuse to hurt an unarmed target who wouldn't defend herself...but in Romanov's case, it was a mistake.

"It's a mindfuck, Barton," she says. "It's what Romanov _does_. Now she's here at SHIELD headquarters, exactly where she wants to be -- and you brought her here. Have you forgotten what she's done?"

"No. But I haven't forgotten what I've done either. SHIELD gave me a second chance. Maybe she deserves one too."

***

Romanov is awake when Maria comes to see her. The restraints make it hard for her to sit up, but Maria's not about to remove them, even though it feels like an admission that Romanov could beat her in a fight.

"You knocked yourself out. Why?" Maria asks.

Romanov raises her eyebrows. "You were going to shoot me in the head."

"Would that have been a problem?" Maria asks. "I was under the impression you asked Barton to execute you."

"I did." Romanov's stare is frank and guileless. "But I've had time to reconsider."

"And what exactly has changed in the last seven hours and fifteen minutes?"

"I want to make you an offer."

Maria stays close to the door, her arms crossed over her chest. "If it's information you're peddling, SHIELD isn't buying."

"That's wise. I wouldn't take information from me either." Romanov gestures toward her body, as much as she can with her wrists clamped to the bed rails. "The offer is me. I'll follow your orders, carry out your missions, whatever you ask."

Maria snorts. "I have hundreds of capable agents at my disposal, none of whom have ever burned down a hospital. If you want to save your life, you'll have to do a lot better than that."

"You misunderstand." Romanov's voice is soft and level, hard not to listen to -- and believe. "I'm not bargaining for my life. I've done wrong; I'm bargaining for the chance to make it right. Death is no recompense. Only living is."

***

Fury is in Eritrea with Coulson and Team Alpha, and the sat phone won't link up till almost eleven p.m.

"Barton brought home a stray dog this morning," Maria says without preamble. "The problem is, its name is Romanov, and I think it's evil."

Fury makes a barking noise, which is as close as he ever comes to laughing. "And I thought I had a bad fucking day. What happened?"

"Romanov asked Barton to kill her, so naturally he brought her to headquarters instead. Then she stabbed herself with a tranquilizer dart because she guessed that I wouldn't kill a sleeping person, and she woke up and said she wanted to repay her debts to society."

"That's all kinds of fucked up," Fury says. "Do you think we could use her?"

Maria represses the urge to laugh. Are they seriously considering this? "No, but I'm certain Red Room could use us," she says.

"Reliable intel says Romanov's been a free agent since the Soviet Union fell."

"The Kremlin's not the only organization who could use a double agent in SHIELD. She could jeopardize the safety of our whole organization."

"And yet..." Fury leans back in his seat, and Maria can tell that he's entertaining an idea -- a very dangerous idea.

"Sir, I don't know that I care for the expression on your face," she says.

Fury gives her another barking laugh. "It's not a pretty face, Hill. Natasha Romanov is a powerful weapon. If she's working for us, she's not working for anyone else."

"If she's dead, she's not working for anyone, sir."

"Could you shoot a woman who's surrendered?"

"That woman, yes. Orders were to shoot her on sight, until Barton brought her in. I wouldn't relish kiling her, sir, but it wouldn't be the hardest thing I've ever done for SHIELD."

Fury offers her a jagged smile. "Good. Put her through psych evals, tempt her in HQ, and if she passes everything, the Kochkor mission's hers. You're the handler, and if she double crosses us, I'll know you can pull the trigger."

***

"Fucking Kochkor." Maria slams a stack of files down on Phil's desk.

He raises an eyebrow. "You drew the short straw, huh?"

"Old Soviet base in the middle of dangerous territory? No reliable intel that anything valuable is down there, but we have to check just to make sure? Yeah, I'd call that the short straw." She flings herself into the chair opposite Phil's desk and rakes her fingers through her hair. "And I'm taking Romanov."

"She passed the psych evals, huh?" Phil says. He doesn't sound surprised.

"If by 'passed,' you mean 'lied well enough to convince a shrink she's not a psychopath,' then yes, she passed. And she 'passed' Fury's loyalty tests too."

"You still think she's working for someone else?" Phil asks.

"I think it's dangerous to assume otherwise," Maria says, and Phil nods.

"Then we have to give her something that her other employer can't. Something to make her loyal only to us."

"Like what?" Maria asks. "Jewels? Gold? Billions of dollars and unrestrained freedom to strangle people with her thighs?"

Phil smiles in the soft way that could almost make you forget he's one of SHIELD's deadliest agents. "No," he says, "I was thinking about family."

***

Their Jeep, an old Soviet Army model that's seen better days, bumps over the rutted roads. Beside them is a sheer drop to the valley below, littered with the burned carcasses of less fortunate vehicles. Maria can't afford to take her eyes off the road. Kochkor is fifty miles away, but getting there will take the better part of the day.

"You don't like me," Romanov says.

"Do you care if I like you?" Maria mutters through gritted teeth.

"No," Romanov says. "But it bothers you to work with people you don't like. I like you, if it makes a difference."

"It doesn't," Maria says. She grits her teeth harder and spins the wheels to drive them out of a rut in the road. Conversation is the doorway to manipulation, and she will _not_ be drawn in. It doesn't matter that Romanov's quick wit, dry humor, and competence are exactly what she looks for in an agent and a friend. The woman has killed half a dozen SHIELD agents, and Maria's greatest responsibility is to protect the people under her command.

"Pretending for you is pointless. It's novel. I like it," Romanov says. She glances sidelong at Maria and smiles. "In aother life, we might have been friends." 

The Jeep spins into another rut, this time on the edge of a hairpin turn. Blue sky spreads out in front of them. If Maria accelerates even a little too much, if her steering is just a degree off, they'll sail out into space. Romanov stares out at the horizon; she sees the danger too.

"I'll shift, you steer," she says. "It's going to take two of us to survive this road."

***

The sky is black when Romanov returns from the Soviet base. It sits in the distance, rusted and sad, hardly worth their near-death on the road or their firefight with a wanna-be militia.

"What did you find?" Maria asks.

Romanov lays a stack of blueprints and a strange-looking gun in the back of the Jeep. "Not much of value, but no sign that anyone had been here before us." She smiles in the dark. "I promise I didn't swallow any important information, but you can do a cavity search if you want."

Maria doesn't rise to the bait. "We'll have to sleep here tonight. The road is suicide in the dark."

Romanov nods and curls into the passenger seat, winding a thin SHIELD-issue blanket around herself. Maria thinks she's gone to sleep until she says, "If you had refused to come on this mission, would you have been executed?"

"What?" The question takes Maria off guard. "We don't _do_ that here. Fury would have been angry, Coulson would have gone with you instead, or I might have convinced them that you deserve to be in prison for what you've done. But no one would have died. Not even you."

"So you have freedom, then," Romanov says. She pauses and stares up at the stars. "I know you don't trust me. You can't see what's in this for me. What I want is freedom. SHIELD will give me that."

"Don't lie," Maria snaps. "We know you haven't worked for Red Room since the Soviets fell."

Romanov snorts. "Do you think that's freedom? Being on the run every day from your worst fear, taking protection wherever you can find it?"

"You seemed like you were having a pretty good time."

"Some days. I don't deny it. But it's not a life. Making your own choices is."

"And what happens when your choices don't include SHIELD anymore?" Maria asks.

Romanov goes still. "I know what would happen to Barton if I leave."

"I hope you do," Maria says. "He'd get killed coming after you for revenge, or to prove he didn't know you planned to double cross us. Or he'd be put on trial for treason and esponiage because he brought you in. Even in the very best case scenario, he loses his job."

Romanov's eyes meet Maria's in the dark. "I didn't mean to take a hostage when I came here. I wasn't thinking at all, except that I was ready to die. But as long as Barton's survival depends on my behavior, I'll be good."

***

They go on more missions together: Bishkek, Volgograd, Abkhazia. It's low-level stuff, mostly, but Romanov doesn't complain about the assignments, or the ankle tracker she wears when she's not on a mission. If she's unhappy with level one security clearance, she doesn't say it, and Maria wears herself out trying to decide if that makes her more trustworthy or more dangerous.

Romanov appears in Maria's office without an invitation on New Year's Day.

"Barton is my partner for the Budapest mission," she says. She slides into the chair opposite Maria's desk with catlike grace that Maria finds hypnotic and frightening.

"He requested you," Maria says.

"And you said yes."

"Is that a thank you?" Maria asks. "It was a strategic decision, not a reward. For either of you."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you," Romanov says. She's wearing a soft-looking t-shirt and old jeans, and Maria thinks it's the first time she's ever seen Romanov looking so comfortable.

"Coulson thought we should give you a family to keep you loyal. Do you want one?"

Romanov snorts softly. "I wouldn't know what to do with one." She looks around the blank walls of Maria's office and adds, "You don't know what to do with a family either."

Maria bristles before she remembers that Romanov either doesn't have social skills for normal interactions or she chooses not to use them. When she's being paid to lie to someone, she's flawless; when she's off-duty, she tells the truth without artifice.

"No, I don't suppose I know what to do with my family," Maria says. Her dad's a drunk, her mom's spineless, and Uncle Charlie probably has a meth lab in the storage shed out back. Maria doesn't say any of that though; Romanov's quiet demeanor invites more confidences than she wants to share.

"You didn't go home for Thanksgiving or Christmas," Romanov says. She stands to leave. "I have vodka and pumpkin pie in my quarters, and you're allowed to like me even if you don't trust me. Come by later if you want."

***

The Budapest mission is fucked from the start. Red Room agents everywhere, Romanov and Barton pinned by enemy fire, comm links out... and just when Maria thinks it can't get any worse, headquarters explodes. While she's inside it.

Everything is black, and she's choking on dust, but she can't really cough because her chest is compressed too tightly by fallen debris. Her comm link crackles like it might still be live, but her hand is stuck and she can't push it back into her ear. Taking a deep breath -- as deeply as she can, anyway -- she concentrates as hard as she can on moving all ten toes, then all ten fingers. She's intact, at least, and her left hand is reaching out of the rubble into the cool morning air.

Suddenly warm fingers close around hers, and Coulson says, "I'm here." His voice sounds distant through her half-disconnected comm link.

"What the fuck, Phil?" she shouts. "Are they still shooting out there? Get under cover!"

"You know how Barton never gets shot, even when he has six arrows and the bad guys have several hundred bullets? I'm betting those odds are going to work out for me today."

"Except for how he _actually got shot_ last time."

"Just a graze," he says, and Maria can picture his tiny, ironic shrug. "Rumor has it it made him six times sexier and at least twelve times scarier. I'm just a balding guy in a suit. Think what a bullet wound would do for my street cred."

"Get under cover, Agent. That's an order." She hopes her voice doesn't sound as panicked as she feels.

Phil snorts. "Make me."

"Please, Phil, don't die for me. I am asking you, as a friend, as your former partner, as the person you trust most in the world, to take cover." She forces herself to let go of his hand.

Phil squeezes her hand more tightly. "Maria Hill, I am not going to leave you alone in the dark."

***

It's late afternoon when they pull Maria out of the rubble. It takes three tactical units and the Cavalry to subdue the Red Room agents, but the full SHIELD team is still alive at the end. The last thing Maria sees before they load her into an ambulance is Romanov on a stretcher, smiling around two missing teeth and a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.

"How the fuck did that mission get so fucked up?" Maria demands when she hobbles into Phil's office on crutches the next day. "A simple witness extraction shouldn't end with building explosions and strike teams."

"Are you supposed to be out of Medical?" Phil asks, then shakes his head. "Sorry, stupid question. It was a double-tap strike. Red Room blows up mission HQ, kills you, and eliminates the tactical teams coming to get you out of the rubble." 

"Romanov sold us out." It's not a question. She'd let the most dangerous woman in the world fool her with vodka and pumpkin pie and a conversation about family. "The Budapest mission was in phase one planning when she came here. Even if she's had a change of heart since then, she could've sold the information to Red Room months ago."

"Maybe," Phil says evenly. "We might not ever know. I do know that if Romanov wanted you dead, you would be. She's the one who held down the fort until tactical came."

***

It's late when Maria visits Romanov's room. Crutches and pain medication make her sluggish, but that's only an excuse. The truth is, she isn't sure whether she owes Romanov a "thank you" or a "fuck you," and no amount of thinking will help her figure out which.

Romanov's sitting on her couch in a SHIELD tracksuit, her own broken leg propped in a kitchen chair. 

She tilts her head inquiringly toward Maria. "You want to know if I sold you out to Red Room," she says. 

"Yes. Or if you're a double agent who protected me to establish your position in SHIELD." Maria leans on her crutches and fights the urge to laugh. Here they are, two half-broken spies, playing mind games with each other.

"You want the truth?" Natasha asks, her voice faintly mocking. "The truth is that it doesn't matter what I say because you don't trust me, even if you want to. I haven't earned that from anyone. Yet. I know that." She pulls herself slowly to her feet, supporting herself with the back of the chair. She doesn't quite hide her wince, or the thick white bandage under the hem of her shirt. When she looks Maria in the eye, her gaze is magnetic. "If you believe one thing about me, believe this, Agent Hill: I pay my debts, and Clint Barton isn't the only person here I owe."


End file.
